Lost Tribes AAR.

[tmdreb]

Re: Lost Tribes AAR.

On Saturday, we decided to leave the mudhole we'd slept in the night before and see for ourselves the occupation of the town that had made us feel unwelcome the day before. Three of us crossed the creek and hid in the bushes opposite the town while the rest stayed behind. We watched the picket post for a bit, and the man Tom put in charge of this advance party told us to stay put while he went back to report what he saw. We did so. We watched some officer with a scant guard walk down to the creek and back to town. Soon after, a cocky sergeant strutted at the head of a patrol in the direction of the creek.

We stuck around, but didn't see much until we heard a whole mess of shooting behind us a ways around where we'd left the rest of the boys. Steve and I didn't think it would be too safe to try and cross the creek while this was going on, so we stayed put. To our dismay, a small Yankee patrol walked towards us following the treeline of the bushes we were hiding in. They passed by at no more than about 3 rods from us, but didn't see us. To make matters worse, they entered the woods at about the same distance past us! We had now been cut off, and outnumbered. I thought for sure that young officer would see me as he stopped and looked around, but he just kept walking. None of his men seemed as curious.

The shooting started up again, and closer this time. I figured the bunch that had just passed us had stirred up another hornets' nest with the rest of our boys and would be too busy to notice as we passed behind them. I told Steve "lets go" and we went. We almost made it. Some bluebelly noticed Steve and his blue coat and asked "who are you?" Steve answered with his Navy Pistol. A bluebelly sergeant hearing the commotion asked "what's going on here" and got the same answer. It was around this time they figured out Steve wasn't one of them.

I shot my rifle and pistol and told Steve to run for the bean field, which he did. I took off after him, but the pistol in my belt fell out. I thought I could go back to get it, as the bluebellies seemed to like staying in the creek bed more than getting shot at. As I turned to go back, one yankee who'd followed me thought he had his chance to catch me, but I brought up my Navy Pistol and fired. He cursed and fell, so I thought the bullet had found its mark. I stood to fetch my Army Pistol that had fallen, but the bluebelly stood up right in front of me, his musket in his right hand. All that came to me was to point my empty Pistol at him, and he quickly saw that he was in a fix. His fellows were finally coming out of the creek bed and had noticed that I was alone, and had a gun on their comrade. I knew I couldn't take the man with me, and he might figure out quick that I wasn't going to shoot him. I told him where to find my Army Pistol, figuring it'd take his mind off me, and give him a souvenir to redeem his reputation for being momentarily captured. Also, he'd been the only bluebelly with sand enough to chase me that close, and with an empty musket at that.

I swapped a pistol for my life. It was a good trade.

[TKlas]

Re: Lost Tribes AAR.

Hi gang,

I want to thank Holler and the Hairy Nation for a great experience and all the work that went into the event. To my comrades in 1st platoon - second section of the 21st Missouri, it was a pleasure to serve with you and thanks to Cpl. Eric Fair for his hard work during the weekend.

Probably one of the more unique events I have taken part in with the occupation of a not so welcoming town. The Star of the West Society, the Citizens of the Old Northwest along with others should be commended on their portrayals for the weekend.

Tom

[blackhattertuck]

Re: Lost Tribes AAR.

All that came to me was to point my empty Pistol at him, and he quickly saw that he was in a fix. His fellows were finally coming out of the creek bed and had noticed that I was alone, and had a gun on their comrade. I knew I couldn't take the man with me, and he might figure out quick that I wasn't going to shoot him. I told him where to find my Army Pistol, figuring it'd take his mind off me, and give him a souvenir to redeem his reputation for being momentarily captured. Also, he'd been the only bluebelly with sand enough to chase me that close, and with an empty musket at that.

I swapped a pistol for my life. It was a good trade.

Curses, It was empty! :cry_smile Thanks pard for giving me one of the biggest "period rushes" i've had. Nothing like having a pistol shoved in your face to make it seem real!

[Michael Comer]

Sheriffin' Is a Hard Job

This was one of the best events I have ever done. It helped me get just a bit
of a feel for what it may have been like for civilians in this state during the
war. I knew it was a scary place to live but I think I have just a little bit
better understanding of it now.

I lost more percussion caps this weekend from having my shotgun continuously taken away from me by people and removing the caps. Seems like everytime I turned around fellows who had me outnumbered were disarming me.

Friday afternoon saw a group of fellows lounging around the mill. They were either deserters or partisans. Either way I just didn't want them making trouble in the town. I chatted with them a bit - one fellow who seemed to be their leader and I talked a while and it turned out we had both served with Doniphan's Missouri Volunteers during the Mexican fray. I let them be but some of those boys had military weapons that were nearly armoury bright. I could only speculate where they came from. I'd look over their direction every now and then to see what they were up to. I noticed toward late afternoon that they were getting their gear together. Next time I looked, they were gone. That didn't bother me any - if they weren't in town there'd be no trouble.

Three deserters from Price's army wandered in. One was a local boy that we hadn't seen for several years. He couldn't help but notice that his house was gone along with his family. He was a bit upset by that. He was told that Missouri militia had burned it down during the spring of '63 and his family, all well, had gone to live with kinfolk in St. Clair. He had a real young fella with him whose sanity I had to question. He was wearing a Federal blouse and red leggings cut out of the only blanket he had to use he said. Folks asked me what he thought he was doing with those leggings on. I told them he was trying to get himself killed by whomever captured him. I mentioned to him that he should probably change his attire at the first opportunity. Another fellow with them had obviously been in the applejack. He was hard to deal with. Eventually he was so skewed over from his indulgences he resembled a comma standing there. Fortunately, these boys moved on I thought things would settle down.

Not to be though and Friday night was very tense as some raiders came into town. A couple of these fellows were dressed mighty fine for vagabonds. Looked like the kind of boys that might own a French whorehouse down in New Orleans - not that I'd know anything about those kinds of places. They tried to avoid me and skulked around but I kept an eye on them and would question them at times when I was able to get close to them. I don't think they expected me to be standing in the Captain's inn when they came in that evening. I hope it made them a bit nervous to take their meal while I stood with my back against the wall with a loaded double-barrel at hand watching them. That was probably the most tension I felt during the weekend - not knowing what might happen next. I figured they were going to try something before it was over. Well, next morning they were still in town and I told them they'd best be movin' on. They said they would. A bit later, one of these yardbirds goes rambling across the commons, then starts hallooing, pulls a revolver, and fires into the ground. I headed outside and hollered "What you doing boy!" He said something about a big chicken after him, fired a couple more shots and headed for the brush. About that time, two of the womenfolk come runnin' and say they've been robbed. I knew right away that chicken man was a diversion. A couple of men headed down to the end of town the raiders probably left by. I went to the other end where the house was and looked around. I picked up their tracks on the other side of the woodline and started tracking them through a beanfield. They were easy enough to follow.

I had received several telegrams telling me that Federal troops were in the area. It was my hope that if they came through, they would scare out all the riff-raff and then follow them right behind as they chased them but it was not to be. While I was tracking the raider robbers, I hear a commotion in town and cut back through the woodline to see what was going on. Lo and behold, here come some Yankee skirmishers on the other end of town. So, the preacher, another fellow in town and I go up there to hopefully talk to them and keep the town from being ransacked. My troubles got me disarmed and everyone rounded up in the churchyard.

Those Federals had a few short fused boys among their ranks and they were some trouble. Their captain struck me as the kind of fellow that was probably a decent man but he'd been changed by the war. I also think these boys were used to fighting Confederates and now they were back in Missouri dealing with an enemy they weren't used to. They tried to accuse us of being disloyal but didn't seem to realize that everyone was our enemy and we were only loyal to ourselves - that was the only way this town was going to survive. I was willing to work with them to rid the town of partisans and raiders but I sure hoped they'd leave pretty quickly too.

In the end, and others have told the tale, about how the Yankees acted like they were going to burn the church, arrested the preacher and shot him. When I saw the torch being brought into the churchyard, I went outside and determined that enough was enough. I told them that I'd kill any man who tried to fire that church. I knew I'd die too but a man gets to the point where he just doesn't care about that much anymore. That was the last straw and I wasn't going to let those Yankees burn that building or kill any of our civilians without me taking a few with them. I was proud of the men who came and stood beside me. Even Mr. Mueller the avowed Unionist woodworker stood with us although he was unarmed. There was a statement made there about the importance of community and family. In a real situation, if that had escalated we would have all been dead and we knew that but we had had enough and were going to stand up for ourselves and our town no matter the consequences. It was a good moment for me.

So there we were; about 6 townsfolk with whatever weapons we had facint off a platoon of soldiers while commotion was going on all over town. I fully though that at some point we were going to start shooting at each other. Well, the Federals decide to leave after our show of defiance and partisans hitting them at one end of town. The captain said the town's not worth protecting and tells his men to form up and off they went.

I went out with a few fellows to let the partisans know there were no Yankees in town and hopefully keep them from shooting up the place. For my troubles, I got disarmed again, tied up and herded to the mill. One of those fellows said I'd been rude to him - I don't know just what I did but it didn't matter, I was tied up and he had a rope ready to set me to swinging.

For whatever reason that fellow didn’t string me up and their leader, after talking with Mr. Hicks, comes and says I can go. I told him I had a responsibility to the rest of the men in the mill with me. He let me know that it was not the time to be idealistic so I took my leave.

It seemed no matter what I did I ended up between a rock and a hard place and I often felt very ineffective in my office despite my best efforts to honor my oath and the trust of the community. There were times I felt utterly helpless. People looked to me for some sort of protection which is mighty hard to do when you're up against men who have you outnumbered and outgunned.

So, despite some dissatisfaction on the part of some of the citizens at my
inability to take care of all the riff-raff that came into town, especially the Widow Siddall who had some idea that I could stand up to 50 armed Yankees and keep them from tossing her out of her house, I hope I was of some assistance to the citizens. That widow gave me continuous grief for that though.

Excellent event made possible by the excellent impressions and probably the best first person I have ever been involved with. Without that, it would have just been a costume party. But, because of the efforts of all involved it was a real learning experience for me.

[Stormi Souter]

Re: Lost Tribes AAR.

Wow, it is fantastic to hear other peoples stories and find out some of what was going on that I only saw a small part of!

Miss. Katherine Engledew's diary recording from the Lost Tribes event can be found here:

http://whynotthen.com/Main/LostTribesAAR

I can post them in a message is this doesn't work for anyone!

-Stormi Souter

[Deborah Hyland]

Re: Lost Tribes AAR.

My dear husband:

Now that our town has returned to normal, I feel brave enough to let you know how we have been faring. I hesitated to write before lest you become unduly concerned and, and am afraid to say, lest I reveal your absence to the untrustworthy.

I was terrified that our neighbors would learn of your extended absence. Some are true friends, but others ... It was even more important to me that no soldier know of your absence. Given the abuse we women suffered at their hands, I shudder to think what might have happened had they been aware of how truly unprotected I was.

I told anyone who asked, and many who did not, that I was expecting you at any moment. I did reveal to a few trustworthy souls such as our sheriff so that they might watch for any trouble. I even went so far as to call several times at the telegraph office and inquire for word from you.

I had seen a gang of four men sneaking in the brush (true bushwhackers indeed) towards the boarding house on Friday evening, so I slept not a wink that night as I kept hearing rustling noises in and around the store. Perhaps it was only mice, but what a quantity of mice it must have been to make that much noise.

When I rose well before dawn on Saturday to ready the store for our customers, I saw the same men gathered around the Widow Siddall’s house. At first, I feared for her safety, but I saw her hand something out to them, so perhaps she knew them after all. Among them I had recognized several friends, but I was surprised at the widow’s daring.

Later, Mr. Anders himself came into the store. I had heard of his fierce reputation, but he seemed kindly enough. He even set up an account. I was afraid to say no to him, yet also was afraid that the Union troops would find his signature in our ledger.

I also had several letters for the bushwhackers, which I was frantic to have delivered. I asked as many as I safely could if they knew how to get the letters to their rightful recipients and remained fearful while they rested on the shelf with the other mail.

On Saturday, a gaggle of Union troops turned the town upside down. I’m afraid my dear, that our business was quite disrupted. Many of the ladies took refuge in the store, but we were all forced out and into the church. Still, the army posted a guard on the store and eventually let us reopen.

As you know, my dear, I was a staunch unionist before meeting you, but I ever strive to understand your position and endeavor to support your views. When the Union army arrived, I asked myself what you would have me do. I did not know a one of these soldiers, while the so-called "ruffians" counted among them our friends of many years.

Thank heavens I heeded your suggestion to stock an additional quantity of sausages. They say an army marches on its stomach, but I wonder if the Union can hold, as hungry as these young men are. In the interest of commerce, I accepted their script. I also reminded myself that these young men are some mother’s son and are perhaps as dear to some wife as you are to me.

I could not spend another night in the store, however, and fled. Capt. and Mrs. Smith helped soothe my nerves with a bountiful dinner, a few extra cookies, and a quantity of restorative cordials. I took great comfort from the words of our pastor and Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Good helped distract me from my worries. Later, I gained in spirit by listening to the minstrel show. What a relief to find myself warm and welcomed and among such dear friends.

Afterwards, Maj. Harding helped me retrieve some small belongings from the store and I took refuge in Mrs. Engledew’s. With the help of a strong sleeping draught, I was able to find further comfort from Morpheus.

On Sunday, when the troops fled, I was stunned at how many bushwhackers seemed to materialize from nowhere. I had thought that by spotting the four or five of them, that I had seen them all. We must have been quite surrounded.

I close only with some sad news. Our pastor was killed by the Union troops on their way out of town. I know you are not a church-goer yourself and have strong feelings on the matter, but I also know that your son by the first Mrs. Brenton is a minister. I fear we have come to days where a man of God is not treated respectfully and I pray that your son remains safe.

Please give my regards to your dear mother and hurry home to me as soon as she can manage without you. I am ever,

Your loving wife,
Deborah Brenton

[rebjeb04]

Re: Lost Tribes AAR.

Did anyone take photos at this event? It sounds like it was quite an event for Bushwackers/Jayhawks!

Don't know if anyone has heard of Silas C. Turnbo, but he told some great stories in the ozarks of Arkansas/Missouri. I had three ancestors that served in Turnbo's unit the 27th Arkansas, and have two titles he wrote on his war experience.

Turnbo's Tales of the Ozarks: War and Guerilla Stories
Revised Edition

History of the Twenty-Seventh Arkansas Confederate Infantry.

[Trish Hasenmueller]

Re: Lost Tribes AAR.

I'll soon be scanning in the ferrotype and ambrotypes my daughter and I had made at the event. Modern cameras were quite scarce. The ladies had a group ferrotype made also...all by Steve Ingram. Doug Harding was also making collodian photos. I don't know if any bushwhackers had a chance to get a photo made.

Trish Hasenmueller

[PVT.THIB]

Re: Lost Tribes AAR.

I have a few that I took with my camera of the event. I will probably upload them in a few days.

[ColdSteele]

Re: Lost Tribes AAR

As a member of the 1st Section, 1st Platoon I must say that I have never served with a more determined or rougher bunch of Union men.

Saturday:
As part of the lead element moving into the town, my distrust of the civilians began immediately. As I came to the barber's shop, I ordered a man who refused to take Hog's advise and return to his home, who again appeared through a roof door. I immediately ordered he and anyone else who occupied the building to come out. Of course in sneaky sesech fashion, he lied and claimed he was the only one in it. It was at that moment that I saw faces peering through the window and, not one, but TWO more civilians exited after MUCH warning.

I had cleared the church, which was locked, and the barn a little ways farther. I then returned to the churchyard where the town men and women were being held. I stood guard over some men who claimed to have fought in the 4th U.S. Infantry in Mexico...I somehow doubted this claim.
The pastor then unlocked the church and women began entering. Another and myself went in to search the building for contraband. The townsmen clearly agitated that we had entered a house of God with weapons. After a search we exited the building when the preacher started to speak and the door quickly shut. Not a minute later the church bell rang out its intended warning and I busted the door open and ripped the rope from a woman's hand. I saw the fear in her eyes about what might happen next. Had I any less scruples, I would have tied a noose and strung her up, leaving her corpse to counter weigh the bell as it tolled out it sesech message.

I went on patrol with the 1st Sgt and made contact with a group of bushwackers. I only saw about 5-6, but they put up up quite a scrape. I had been trapped in the beans as the balance of the patrol came forward. We tried to push them out, and luckily we were met with friends and the 2ndLt on the opposite side of the creek providing support.

Much later that evening, standing my picket by the Inn, the night was black as tar. I asked my pard with me to inquire at the inn if they had any coffee to spare. This request was met with a "none to share with you..." as my friend returned emptyhanded. Moments later, as I swear to have heard movement in the brush beyond my post, two women appeared from the back of the inn. With the inn already a suspect sesech haven, the hairs on my neck rose as I waited for the enemy to rush in. They spoke to my pard about extra rice that would be disposed of if we did not take it. We said the rice would be fine and they left back into the inn. I told my pard of my fears in the brush, thinking the women to be staging a diversion. They returned with a pot and my pard told then to put the pot on the ground. No diversion happened, however, by then we had forgotten about the rice. It appeared in camp later - which I had a heap of to quiet my stomach. Interestingly, after we were relieved those same ladies poured out a pot a coffee that they could not share - accordingly to the pickets.

Sunday:
I had the midnight until 2:00am picket with Pvt Hog. As we shared some contraband apples and contemplated another attack from our post at the covered bridge. None came as 2:00a, creeped nearer and we were finally relieved. I was relieved more so to know we had a warm building to sleep in rather an open grist mill.

We awoke to report for our picket duty to which I was posted with George (Jim Schumann) and our fine Corporal at the road by the clearing. In the midst of our watchful eye, George noticed something I have never seen - a TUFTED TIT MOUSE bird. He had shared other interesting curiosities he read in a book about birds by Autobahn.

We were finally relieved from our post, anxious for our stomached to receive the simmering beans that were present before we left for picket. To our disappointment, the proprietor of the inn demanded his pot back from the company and the beans were dumped before our plates and spoons could be filled. I am sure, to the townsfolk’s entertainment, they must have scoffed at the sight of good, brave Union men scraping beans from the bottom of a fire bit, spoon by spoon, to ease their hunger. I had attempted to volunteer for a patrol, however, not counting very well and to the 2nd Sgt's annoyance, I departed the ranks when 3 already fell out for patrol. I sheepishly returned wishing to be with them.

After a few moments when I was tasked to take the miserable man at the inn his pot back - cursing him the whole distance of the village green, I was glad no one was home. Presumably everyone was attending services at the chapel. I passed by the Confectionary store, intended on purchasing another Turkish delight that I enjoyed on Saturday. Not a moment after I opened the door, the drums were beating as fire began and increased in the open field beyond the town.

Our relief was assembled and posted in front of the town church as people began filing out. Pvt. Hog had the preacher with another man, his name I do not recall, moving him into the village green. Hog claimed the preacher was speaking secech trash and he proceeded to the grist mill. I had thought he was going to detain the preacher, as was done yesterday. However, I looked back and saw Hog move back quickly, as if shoved, and he then fired a shot - ultimately mortally wounding the preacher I suspect.

As the fighting in the field intensified, I heard someone cry, "They shot the drummer!" as I looked and saw a man slump to the ground. It was at this point I thought the townsmen would fight us. They began assembling in the churchyard, visibly holding weapons of sorts and loading them. The Captain returned and formed the company and we began to depart the town. As we left, I saw some of the townsfolk looking at the hat the preacher wore. I can only assume that he had perished for speaking his sesech, rebellious words....

Signed,

Your most obedient servant and friend
Thomas Golihur
21st Missouri, Co. I

One of the best event I had been to in a long time! Thanks to all the new friends I had met and hope to see again very soon! The civilians, officers, NCOs and the whole event made me shiver with cold and fear and never felt so real! Thanks again!

Best Regards,

[PVT.THIB]

Re: Lost Tribes AAR.

Here are some pictures that I took of the event:
The event site:

http://i193.photobucket.com/albums/z10/Demoncrazy11/006-6.jpg

http://i193.photobucket.com/albums/z10/Demoncrazy11/007-6.jpg

http://i193.photobucket.com/albums/z10/Demoncrazy11/008-6.jpg

http://i193.photobucket.com/albums/z10/Demoncrazy11/009-6.jpg

Myself on the porch of the Boone house:

http://i193.photobucket.com/albums/z10/Demoncrazy11/010-5.jpg

Bushwacker stronghold at the farmhouse:

http://i193.photobucket.com/albums/z10/Demoncrazy11/011-5.jpg

http://i193.photobucket.com/albums/z10/Demoncrazy11/012-4.jpg

http://i193.photobucket.com/albums/z10/Demoncrazy11/013-5.jpg

http://i193.photobucket.com/albums/z10/Demoncrazy11/014-7.jpg

Post event Pictures:

http://i193.photobucket.com/albums/z10/Demoncrazy11/015-6.jpg

http://i193.photobucket.com/albums/z10/Demoncrazy11/016-3.jpg

http://i193.photobucket.com/albums/z10/Demoncrazy11/017-3.jpg

http://i193.photobucket.com/albums/z10/Demoncrazy11/019-3.jpg

http://i193.photobucket.com/albums/z10/Demoncrazy11/024-4.jpg

http://i193.photobucket.com/albums/z10/Demoncrazy11/023-4.jpg

Sgt. Patrick Landrum

http://i193.photobucket.com/albums/z10/Demoncrazy11/021-3.jpg

[coastaltrash]

Re: Lost Tribes AAR.

Good caption for that would have been "Alright-I am going to the car now"

[MO-Pard]

Re: Lost Tribes AAR.

Nice pics!

I still have my AAR to post, but it is trapped at work. Once they stop beating me, I'll post it....

[MO-Pard]

Re: Lost Tribes AAR.

First, thank you to everyone who made this such a success. The planning,
impressions, and interactions were well thought and organized. I thought
the event would be good, but it far exceeded my wildest expectations.
Additionally, like any 'great event', IMHO, I rank them on the number of
period moments experienced and as such it usually takes me much longer to
post an AAR as I digest and sort out my thoughts.. But better late than
never....

It wasn't publically known, save a few select folks and organizers; I would
even be at this event. I was approached over a year ago to assemble a
small group of guerrillas. I knew this would be a challenge, but guerilla
warfare in Missouri is something I have researched/studied for a long time
and was honored by the challenge. Originally, the presence of
guerillas/partisans and confederate deserters was to be a wild card and not
announced. When the announcement was made, some made their roles public,
while we chose to keep it mostly a secret in order to better facilitate our
first person interactions and the flavor of the impression we were to
emulate. We admittedly chose a different guerilla interpretation based on
specific accounts and documentation, from the other partisans, but the two
interpretations worked very well together and the differences were
appreciative.

This was a challenging impression, probably the most difficult thing I've ever done, and I would look forward to again. The boys did a killer job and I appreciate their patience. I sent out probably more than 30 pages of information to get ready and prepare for the impression and they did so enthusiastically. (The impression,) It wasn't a bunch of bravado, but trying to blend in, manipulate, case, size up, plan, take care of your men and interact with folks to learn who you might be able to trust to a degree. What made it more difficult was the lack of words we used to interact in FP. We had to convey things beyond words. We worked rooms, people and the open spaces. We made people uneasy, made them ask questions and hopefully made them think about things they hadn't planned. We worked for information, we watched. We were untrustworthy, but principled. We were paranoid, but brazen. We expected people to know we were special/important, but also wanted to be anonynmous. We lived off what the towns could make us forget about the war and personal losses. All we had left was each other. We moved, always calculating the next move.

I was (infamously) honored to portray Will Anders. And our band was
indicative of the many bands at this point in the war. Fractions due to
egos, apathy and opportunism (plunder, etc.) were rampant. As former
members of Samuel Hildebrand's band, we left and went our own way about a
year prior, for those previously mentioned three reasons. But most all the
bands came together when Price came through, working as scouts and
basically using the might of Price's army, to further settle scores.....or
more so for us, to continue to line our pockets, take what we wanted, drink
away the scars, and deal with anyone who got in our way......at a later time
of our choosing. We came up with Shelby, who knew many of the Missouri
guerillas from the Border War days......and Shelby always welcomed
guerillas and overlooked their lack of discipline. Having lost Luke Sidal,
two years prior, and a few others to Wilson's men, we were now numbered at
five. The temperamental Charlie Clay (Charles Hoskins), youthful and
newest member Levi Farrington (John Duff), the "not right" and giant
chicken fighter Hardy Sample (Marty Rubin) and my trusty Lt. Austin
Wingfield (Dan Hadley) rounded out the band. We were all actually from
down around the Mingo Swamp area around the bootheel, and had never
ventured this far north. However Hildebrand convinced us, to join Shelby
and we worked our way north from the Arkansas line. Finding Doniphan a
blaze, save one structure belonging to a Federal officer.........which we
quickly 'made like all the others,' we learned of and pursued the 3rd MSM
who had torched the town. Along with Shelby, we eventually caught up with
them, and when Shelby "left them with us, we left them there." We
continued to tear up the roads and burn depots, as we bypassed Pilot Knob
and went to Potosi. We stayed here sept 27th with Shelby, Hildebrand and
what a bounty Potosi was! In fact, when Shelby and Hildebrand left the
next morning to pursue Ewing and eventually link up with Price at Pilot
Knob, we decided the town still had plenty to offer. Here we remained
several days in fine quarters, were "donated" fine, dapper clothing (Hildebrand spoke in his memoris about how they were always provided "fine clothing",) and
were privy to a vast (and hidden) supply of whiskey. Coincidently, the
whiskey miraculously ran out the same morning some Federal militia came
back to town, so we elected to continue to follow in Price's wake hoping
for many more "Potosi's." Next on the route was Gray's Summit which we
watched for a day or two from the hills to learn whether there was any
Federal presence or lawmen. Afterall, there were rewards on our heads.
Out of boredom, Charlie and Levi burned the depot. But this smoked out the
town's sheriff. Hungry and out of whiskey, Gray's Summit was our next
oyster, but even without Federal troops or Enrolled Militia, the presence
of a sheriff and his double barrel might be an impediment to our
opportunities. Especially if he knew our identities. We waited for dark.


The highlights:

Additional impression. Three of us arrived early thursday to get
established, help organize some of the civilians, etc. Because our main
impression had not been to Grays Summit before we needed to figure
something out for those who were on site a day early. We wore different
attire, and to Terry Sorchy's credit, we portrayed male refugees fleeing
both confederate conscription for federal militia as well. We introduced
ourselves as such to the few there and it was really a bonus evening. We
went to Capt and Mrs Smiths and bartered washing pots for a meal, (very
good!) The evening was cool, and then shortly after our arrival the rains
cut loose. With the summer kitchen door open, lit only by candlelight;and
the hearth; we ate and smoked to the sound and smell of the driving rain. When the
rain subsided, the skies gave way to 'sand dune-like' cascading clouds,
floating past the full moon. Incredible.

Ice Cold Baptism. Having been down there a day already and all the hiking
we had done up and down the hills, the lure of a bath was enticing. One of
only two times the 5 of us weren't together, Hardy and Levi headed to where
we were bivouacked up in the hills. Lt Austin stayed with me and kept watch
from the bank. From a gravel bar I found a clear, rock-bottomed pool which
appeared about 2-3 feet deep. After shedding my clothing, I grabbed my lye
soap and a handkerchief and slowly waded into to ice cold Femme Osage.
Much to my surprise a bus full of school kids.............................(just
kidding), much to my surprise the edges of the pool were not stable, but
piled pebbles and rocks. The sides gave way to a small avalanche and
plunged me into the frigid pool, which was deeper than I expected. After
the fastest bath on period or modern record, it grew even more interesting......
because now I couldn't get out, trying to scale the avalanche! As I tried
to climb the sides now, it kept sliding me back down into the pool. After
kicking and scratching, I finally crawled out. Refreshing and
unforgettable.

Sheriff. Although this was a unique event, there have been a few events
with military, civilians and partisans.. But this one added a nice
angle....a local lawman or sheriff. Mike Comer did a stellar job here.
His laid-back, but everpresent presence made things interesting. Although
we out-numbered him, we still did our best to keep tabs on his whereabouts,
be where he wasn't, verbally side-step his questions/inquiries and avoid
contact which would lead to a confrontation. In town, he was our only real
concern. We never knew for sure if he knew who we were, but we certainly
didn't want to find out if he did. We certainly didn't expect him behind
the door at the Inn friday evening or in the mercantile saturday morning..
Although, I do believe he began to figure it out by early saturday morning
when he asked of me whether I knew anything about the depot burning and
where I had come into the large wad of money in my pocket, when I had none
the night before. We knew we were leaving town soon however, once we
'secured provisions'. In an display of defiance, I signed my name to the
account book in the mercantile.

Inn. The Inn had incredible food and a very period presence. Things
pretty much seemed to revolve around the Inn and where most folks in town
could be found at one time or another. Great food!

Mercantile. Though mentioned above, Mrs Brenton's shop was well-laid out
and a treat to visit/shop. We came in for the expressed purpose of
learning local news and purchased the newspapers, and treats. To our
surprise, the local paper told not only of the depot burning, but that our
(Anders) and Hildebrand's bands were suspected/seen/rumored in the hills
surrounding the town. Little did they know, Hildebrand returned to
Arkansas when Shelby left Potosi. Anyway, would like to have shopped more,
but the presence of the sheriff and reports of Federals moving toward the
village cut our visit shorter than expected. It also prevented me from
getting a shave at the barber shop.

Image. Having secured our dapper clothes and finding the photographer set
up Sat morning, the lads fancied having our image struck. Many commented
on the audacity sitting for an image with Federals approaching, and we
could hear the drums while seated. We unfortunately had to leave the image
behind and it was used by the sheriff to inform the Federals who we were
and what we were wearing. Realizing this, we obtained different clothing
prior to leaving town to change our descriptions.

Dressmaker Shoppe. The encounter with the two ladies (never got their names...) at the shoppe was another tense period moment. We knew we had to secure provisions before we left town and in 'calling on' this shoppe, we would never be able to be seen in the village again. The ladies did not know who was coming for them. In typical fashion, with no men present we were polite but direct why we were there. At first they either didn't understand or want to believe what was occuring, and I can only imagine how it feels to have you home violated and your things ransacked and taken. We were in, we were out, and I hope the experience was as interesting to them as us.

Hunger. At every other event I, or we have done, there has been plenty of food in the form of rations. Most of the time, people waste these or we take them home. After a discussion between our band, it was decided we would bring nothing. We would purchase ahead of time a meal from the Sorchys (yeah we really paid for Friday night,) but after that we would have to rely on borrowing, bartering, stealing or raiding haversacks. This was by no means to freeload. Hunger at an event is a period experience none of us had ever experienced and we wanted to experience that concern, worry and wonder about where the next morsel would come from. With all the movement and traversing the hills and creeks, we burned a lot of calories. It was one of the period experiences, because we did things we would not have risked (i.e. coming to town) otherwise but were very hungry and had to use our heads and perseverence. The trade with Mr. Hicks was totally unplanned and another period moment as we were provided for a spell longer. He was not aware of how valued and deep his experience and actions were.

Friday Evening Dinner. We arrived at the Inn after dark, and as mentioned
and to our surprise the sheriff was in the room behind the door. Dapper
and hungry, we greeted most in the room and asked for the Inn Keeper. We
explained we were hungry, had no money and wished to barter for food. When
asked what we had to trade we produced 3 items from a burlap bag: A bottle
of ale, a potato and Federal forage cap. Seeing the forage cap (though
most didn't) the Inn Keeper quickly said he had plenty of those items, but would
feed the five of us if we would wash pots. We agreed and following dinner
a few of us followed through, a few didn't and disappeared. The table was
full on all sides, and we could not shovel the food down our throats fast
enough. Many were quiet and said little to us, and we would barely make
eye contact for fear of being recognized. Some including Mrs. Smith, were
very inquisitive. Setting up one question with, "May I ask you a question
of a personal nature (or something to that effect.) Which I replied she
may, although I may not answer. She then inquired how we had such fine
clothing but no money. To which we explained we had to leave Potosi in a
hurry as the rebs approached and took our best, but had since lost our
horses, spent our money and had been living on squirrel on our travel
since. We then, after several cups of coffee, needed to excuse ourselves
to call on the widow Sidal whom it came to us over dinner we believed her
late husband Luke, one of our own, was from Gray's Summit. We learned of
her location and left to bring her the truth of her husband's demise.

Friday Evening. Having secured food, voluntarily, for another day me moved
through town. Most of the town was dark, save the full moon. We could see
a candle in the window at the home pointed out to us as widow sidal. We
circled the building, for our own safety and knocked on the door. There
was no answer, so we cautious went in, she was not home. We encountered
another civilian who believed she had gown to her two nieces home on the
hill. We learned of the location, formed up, and moved through the shadows
and bushes avoiding contact with folks coming down the road from that
direction. We approached the home from the rear, as we always do, and
scaled our way up to the deck. A man was posted by the rear door. We
could hear music and saw the nieces seated near the window. They were
well-dressed, rather striking and appeared from their clothing and
surroundings to be 'well cultured.' We did not see the widow Sidal
however. Wishing to let our hair down, take in the music, some of the
libations being poured was quite enticing. Further, none of us had enjoyed
the company of women-folk since Potosi. I gave the order to enter the
home. Hardy tried the door but it was locked or jammed. As he fumbled with
it a gentlemen named Slurheal came and opened the door. He was not pleased
to see us and tried to excuse us, and close the door which we would have
none of it and forced our way in. We greeted both the 3 fine musicians and
introduced ourselves to the young ladies....... thanking them for their
hospitality. I immediately posted a watch dog out on the front porch and
another on the rear deck to greet any 'visitors.' Throughout the night we
took turns in these responsibilities. I had chosen a very comfortable, and
expensive looking chair near the fire, which had a matching chair next to
the door and separated by a small pedestal table. It was a comfortable
location providing sight out the front window, the front door, the rear
door as well as all in the room. We spent the better part of the evening
attempting to learn the disposition of the ladies sympathies. At one
point, comfortable in my arrogance and expectations, I firmly requested one
of the ladies come be seated in the chair adjacent to me, which Charlie had
since vacated. They did not oblige, and I checked my rising disappointment,
recalling these were the widow Sidal's nieces. Unlike Federal soldiers and
militia, and although we appreciate the attention of the ladies, we do
respect their honor. It was about that point I heard a gunshot out front
on the porch, which alarmed all in the room. In a second the jovial scene
had changed to purpose as the men moved to positions as they always had. We then
learned after checking with Hardy out front, that he was shooting at a
'giant chicken' he saw coming after him up the walk. We returned to the
festivities and received our first report from some deserters the federal
were about a day away moving in this direction, which was surprising to us
since it was our belief they had all moved west chasing Price, and allowing
us to live it up in the vacuum created. Later that evening Austin
entertained us with a spirited jig. He was rather into it with is head
unknowingly bobbing up and around the chandelier overhead, only missing it
by a hair with each graceful step. The site brought us to spirited laughter which
only spurred him on. Then after almost a minute he ran into it and knocked
a candle from the chandelier. He stopped, reached down, picked up the
candle, and placed the still lit wicket back in the chandelier and
continued the show. All the while this was going on, Hardy, unbeknownst to
us, had stolen a great deal of the ladies food and was eating it out on the
front porch. As it was late, we bid the ladies goodnight and headed back
to the Sidal home. Hardy had asked me to hold a small piece of cheese for
him which I did without question. There we would seek shelter for the evening and the widow sidal began preparing a chicken stew for us which would be ready for lunch the next day.

Saturday.We arose to be told, the Federals weren't far from the outskirts
of town. We'd heard that before and weren't going anywhere unless we had
to. Still in prudence we posted a picket up the road. I sat out front of
widow Sidal's and listened as the sleepy town came to life. The house was
getting a lot of looks from various folks across the green and curtains
pulled back from windows, so the widow Sidal requested
we not be seen there, to which we obliged and not endanger her. Charlie then traded a bundle of
rounds "donated" from a federal militia man at mineral point, with a Mr. Hicks for some cheese, sausage and bread. Another meal taken care of by the good Lord. Although, we never figured out Mr. Hicks
sentiments, but beyond the food he bartered and we needed, my seasoned
senses never fully trusted him.. We hadn't planned to leave town
for days, and I realized we needed to possibly make other plans and secure
the things we needed. We needed news, so waited until the mercantile
opened to obtain a paper and would hit the Inn for any news making its way
to town. No one was at the Inn yet as they didn't serve until 9:00, so we
had our image struck. We heard drums in the distance, so as I sat for the
image hatched our plan. A plan which would never allow us to walk down the streets
of Gray Summit in daylight again. Four of us headed to the other end of
town as the sheriff went to the Inn for breakfast.........Hardy went out
into the town green and picked up where he left off in his personal battle
with the 'giant chicken.' In the meantime, we surrounded the home of some
ladies we believed to be Unionists. Whether or not, I can't say, but these
were dire times. I knocked on the door to the dress shop and the kindly
ladies opened the door. With proper manners, I introduced myself, told them we needed but a
moment of their time and instructed them no harm would befall them if they
kept their place. Austin and Levi then searched the place securing bread
and ale, enough to sustain us for another two days. The ladies, became
distressed and upset, one approaching Austin from behind as he looked under
a bed. I called her back, as I didn't want this to be the first time I
shot a woman or one of those lads reacted on reflex. We then 'thanked them' and left rapidly. Charlie gave the
signal waving to Hardy who went into his 'Chicken Fight" for a diversion.
Three men approached him from the Inn as he screamed and fired, as though he himself was on fire.......we
almost made a grave error by underestimating the ladies, because we
couldn't stop ourselves from laughing on the other end of town as we
watched him freaking out and then running for the bushes. We then hit the
woods and made our way to the hills. The ladies quickly went for the
sheriff to report us, and then we heard the whistle, the Federals had
arrived. We had pulled yet another robbery and this one with only seconds
to spare. Shortly we heard the church bell ring and the signal from widow
sidal proved the news was true. We returned to the hills, shed our
clothing and relaxed to the spoils we had obtained from the fine ladies in
the dress shop. God Bless them. We spent the next couple hours resting
and laughing at our experiences. I pulled out the cheese Hardy had
entrusted me and we shared what little there was, still not knowing where it hailed from. I fell asleep in my drawers and undershirt, on a gentle slope, in the warm sun with a gentle breeze rustling through the leaves. Saw four whitetail running through the woods. It was the only peace I'd felt for days.

We awoke after an hour or so to more brotherly banter and were growing hungry. That
chicken stew was sounding good and we were HUNGRY so we decided to sneak back into town if possible to eat....maybe the Federals had moved on. Just then we saw a
Federal patrol pass not more than 20 yards from us. We drew our revolvers
and laid low. You never fire unless you have to, so as not to draw attention to
yourself. At 1:30, we dressed and headed down the hill, in one of several
ways out we had established. While and cool minds, delivered us yet again.

We heard gunfire and quickly moved to the sound of it in hope of supporting
whoever was there. Had Shelby come back? Or had the rival band met up with the Federals. Regardless, we were on our way to help. We arrived after the firing had ceased and those firing on the Federals had melted away. We watched from afar on high as the Federals returned to the town, After fording the creek, we watched the pickets for awhile. We moved up a treeline, with crazy Hardy leading the way and
signaling. Levi was rear guard. We first crawled on hands and knees, and then had to resort to crawling on our bellies. Suddenly Hardy silently halted us and signaled the danger.

There were pickets, probably an outpost, with a sentinel on the second floor deck and a couple more moving around the house. Our guts and spirits sank in a way I can't trivialize. It was gutsy to return to
town at night, but during the day was either extremely brave or foolhardy.
Only time and final outcomes decide which. I called the boys together and in a rare and only occurance told them, whoever didn't want to continue, could sneak back the way we came and return to the bush. I was
starving and had come this far. I was willing to try because beyond this
post believed we would be hidden by terrain. The ensuing discussion seemed to last quite a long time, but I believe it was at this time we all grew together to a deeper level. I said, "whoever
is going, we're just going to walk by and see what happens." I heard a stomach groan, but had no idea who's. All were in. "We're going to walk by in one horizontal line." We formed and walked as we came into
what would be their site of us, they had both turned and were looking in toward the green.

Withough a word, we looked at each other and took off in a sprint for the
ravine in front of us. What were the chances? We then moved down the ravine, and under the bridge. The ravine was full of water and clay mud. Hardy stepped in a certain spot and plunged to
above his ankle. The collective laughter was much needed but we were afraid we might give ourselves away. When we came to where we could see the old widow Sidal place we saw it was surrounded and guarded by
Federals. We ascertained she wouldn't be there, or at least we weren't.
We would head to the niece's place and hopefully she and Lizzy were there, and if not maybe they had restocked the food Hardy stole. There was one problem. There was so much activity at the house/HQ we were
unable to ascend the mud and water-filled ravine without being detected.
This was one of those up and down emotional experiences because each bravery-rewarded break, was followed by another seemingly insurmountable and draining wall. I don't have any idea how long we sat in there absorbing clay, water and mud. Finally we crawled out on our bellies behind an abandoned home
and up to the far treeline. There we rested and took back into the thick woods. After a spell, we were able to see the niece's place through the trees from the highground. They had several groups of guards,
as suspected, which would have made a direct route to that part of the town
suicide, or at least quicker suicide. We saw the Orderly Sgt checking on and talking to concealed guards/outposts. We saw the sheriff leave. We moved. We eventually came down behind the niece's house and widow Sidal came out waving us of of the impending trap and Orderly inside. We
waited and watched him leave. She waved to the woods and we emerged, and entered the back door.
As soon as we hit the doorway, the rich aroma of the stew tickled our senses and the site of an apple pie on the table was beyond emotion. Each of us ate as though it was our last supper, when an "Oh God" was yelled
and a Federal had peered through the window. The lads sprang out the back
into the woods as experience had nurtured them to do. I was, as always, seated near a window and saw the young Federal leaving and then stop in the yard, Ms. Brandi had gone out, batted her eyes and all was
well since the Federal hadn't seen us. He was only looking for popskull.
I stepped out back, echoed one of our signals into the woods, and the boys returned. The stew, pie and company were indescribable.

The journey there was draining. We arrived at 5:15. It had taken us almost 4 hours
to get from one side of the village to the other. The food was plenty and they begged us to take more, but it was so rich we quickly filled. I did fill my tin cup with apple pie and packed it away for a later spell. Understanding we could shortly expect a Federal patrol, we left in haste. We slogged our way back to our nest. Three of the lads were fast asleep due to the rich food and day's physical and mental
strains. Hardy and I sat around a small fire, and enjoyed some of the
lovely dressmaker lady's ale. It was quiet and serene. It was so silent it was loud. I kept an eye on Hardy so there would be no giant chicken melees this night. Soon, the night, the chill and the results of our conquest overtook us and we crawled into our nest between Austin and Levi.
It wasn't as comfortable as the fine hotels of Potosi or the widow sidal's, but the
cover provided us safety and warmth.

Sunday. It wasn't much of a sleep, slumbering on a diagonal slope where
each time a man moved, he rolled downhill into another, but it sufficed. After one awoke, the others followed. The banter, bonding and laughter continued. Charlie, had been cramped and moved outside for the night, but was now awake as well. In typical Hardy fashion, Hardy said "Hey, did you hear that?"
None of us had, but given the gravity and our position, we all shut up. Hardy was probably hearing the 'voices' again. We peered through the openings of our crude shelter and saw 2 Federals come down off to the side of our camp. They hadn't seen us, but when the orderly did see Charlie out front and our shelther, his eyes grew large as eggs and his jaw dropped. At once, one would have thought there was a fox in the chicken coup as we filed out of there. Each man had at least two revolvers, and I was fortunate to also have a remington and loaded spare cylinders. We hadn't fired a shot all weekend, but
now was different. I don't know if it was Hardy or Charlie who dropped the
Orderly or Charlie or Levi who dropped and seriously wounded the Federal approaching the other flank but they did.

We had them outgunned, but we were outnumbered almost 2-1. My mind raced.
Originally, they pushed us, but once we gained formidable positions and showed a little vinegar, they pulled back a little. It was almost a stalemate, because anyone moving from their positions would have taken a heavy beating. I considered dividing and flanking from both sides, forcing them back
uphill. I hoped the rival band, Hardy and the boys had had sore words with
in my absence prior, would rally to the shooting, however I also feared more Federals would come. In the best interest of my boys, I ordered them (while watching) to fully reload. Men shared cartrides and
caps. Fumbling and breathing deep as we did so. I then said to grab
anything you need and be ready to move. Having brought down their wounded in to our camp we had bargained for 5 mintues to do so. They inquired how they knew they could trust me, and I told them they had my word.
Little did they realize, I gave the last bit of my apple pie to the Federal
I didn't think was going to make it. We were loaded, took the clothes on our backs, and a few provisions, and laid down a spirited fire to barely escape. We lost everything we had acquired in Potosi, Gray's Summit and on our way up in that nest. Again we were hungry, and headed to town.

It took us almost an eternity and a long way to make sure we weren't
followed. We forded the creek in yet another spot we hadn't prior and moved down the creek bed. We checked the Federal situation and watched for a spell. I am sure they saw me, but did nothing. They were too smart
to come out of their position. I then spotted the other band and some
deserters fording the creek a ways down. We decided to hold our position and even though they didn't know we were there, to support the hit they were obviously planning or use the diversion. Hardy asked for a nip of my last whiskey to which I obliged. I almost shot the bastard after he drained all of it.

He just smiled. We waited for a good 20 minutes and the other band never moved, so we sent our men down through he trees to the Inn for food. We could hear the pickets talking as we skulked. At the village Austin, Levi and Hardy headed in. I then heard the eruption of gunfire from the creek area, and took Charlie with me back that direction to hit them from the flank, draw some attention, or find me a suitor for the hemp 'necktie' I was now carrying after the destruction of our home in the hills. I watched and waited. Then removed my hat, dropped my hemp and moved slowly like a cat through the tall grass. I drew both the nimble '51 Navy and the stout remington from belt and holster. There were two Federal at what used to be the picket
post.......both unarmed and watching the action by the creek from afar......and from what they felt was a 'safe' position. As I looked to the creek I saw the skirmish there had quelled and the Federals were but 50 yards out and returning. I yelled to the two Yank lads,"...You two! With me, this way; NOW!"

Startled they turned and looked at me with wide eyes. One, nodded 'no', so I let loose one round from both hands and watched them drop to woman's screams as I turned and ran into the bush. I reunited with the lads back at the Inn where Hardy had the place locked down. The place was packed but silent! I made sure
Hardy understood, no harm was to come to Mrs. Smith. Mrs. Smith commented
she knew there was something about me and that I had deceived her to which I gave her a shallow apology and assured her it was of necessity.

We then proceeded, to fetch a straggling Federal, and stretched his neck.

Again, a great event. If you ever have another chance to do an event at the village it really is something special.

[Sarah Belle]

Re: Lost Tribes AAR.

Better late than never! Thanks for posting your AAR Jay. It’s always great to hear all the different sides of the events. I was wonder what the “Anders’ band” was doing up in those woods. I'm glad you guys came to visit on Friday night. Fun first person experience!

Little did they realize, I gave the last bit of my apple pie to the Federal I didn't think was going to make it.

The Federal that you gave the pie to did make it and came back and questioned us about giving you the pie. He also seemed to be swayed by our womanly charms and nothing came of it.

I pulled out the cheese Hardy had
entrusted me and we shared what little there was, still not knowing where it hailed from

I’ll have to get back at that Hardy Sample for stealing my cheese!!!